


Glasses

by madlysanecatlady



Series: The Nice and Accurate Ineffable Husbands Compendium [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sunglasses, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: Aziraphale, despite how terrible a thing curiosity is for angels, is curious about the sunglasses that are practically glued to Crowley's face. The demon has his reasons for them.





	Glasses

It was sometime around 41AD when Aziraphale first saw them. He first recognised Crowley’s voice across the barroom. It was a distinctive, almost sultry drawl. Aziraphale honestly had a very difficult time accepting that this beautiful voice belonged to a demon. And not just _any_ demon, either. He was The Demon. The Demon Who Got Them All Thrown Out of the Garden. Although, as he thought about it, Aziraphale thought Crowley was likely just as sorry he had done that. He had seen how much the snake-turned-dark-angel loved the plants there. It had probably been quite painful to leave. But that was besides the point. The point was the glasses.

They were small and round like many other pairs he had seen on some of the older men in the area, but they were shaded. Aziraphale had never seen anything like them before. They rather suited him, Aziraphale thought. They sat well on his face and accentuated the smooth cuts and lines of his cheeks and jaw. There was a small problem, however, he reasoned after a moment. He could no longer see the demon’s eyes. He wasn’t quite sure why he cared for a minute, before settling on the reasoning that Crowley’s eyes were some of the most expressive ones he had ever seen – and it would always do well to know what The Enemy was thinking, would it not?

Regardless, it wouldn’t do to ask him about them. The demon likely had his reasons for his own fashion choices. None of them were at all Aziraphale’s business. No good would come of curiosity, he had seen that first hand. He would simply ignore them and move along – it’s what any good angel would do.

 

* * *

 

It was over a millennium later when the curiosity Aziraphale had been steadfastly refusing to acknowledge became far too much to bear. Crowley had the most beautifully expressive and bright eyes; Aziraphale could not fathom a reason for him to _possibly_ want to hide them away behind dark glass. He absolutely had to know. The lack of knowing was eating away at him. Aziraphale had long come to realise that he was, actually, quite clever. His brain had become quite the repository for all types of interesting facts and figures. He was quite unused to not knowing something. He didn’t like it in the slightest. He would need to rectify the situation immediately.

They were sitting together in a garden not too far from the Globe Theatre. Crowley had pilfered a few bottles of strong wine, where from Aziraphale knew enough not to ask. They lounged next to a collection of lush and blooming shrubs, out of sight from the general public as they milled about after one of Shakespeare’s most successful performances yet. He had quickly become so successful that Aziraphale was beginning to wonder if the miracle Crowley had performed in an effort to ply him into keeping up his end of the Arrangement had perhaps been a rather larger one than the demon had claimed. He would love to know if it was intentional or not, but felt it might be rather rude to essentially interrogate him all evening, and he had a much more burning curiosity that needed sating first.

‘Say, Crowley?’ Aziraphale broke the silence that had fallen somewhere in the middle of their second bottle of wine and that had persisted until the middle of their current one, the fourth. The silence hadn’t been cold or awkward, like many silences he had experienced with humans, but warm and comfortable. It was the type of companionable silence that came about naturally when two people had known each other for so many centuries, especially when those two people happened to be keeping a massive secret between them that would be entirely too explosive should it come out.

‘Hm?’ Crowley looked up after the long minute it took him to process that Aziraphale had spoken to him. He smiled, his eyes glazed over after copious amounts of alcohol. ‘What’s on your mind, angel?’

Aziraphale paused, taking a lot of extra time to process the new name Crowley appeared to have labelled him with lately, the haze of alcohol becoming quite the menace to navigate. He refused to sober up, however. That would be horrifically embarrassing, essentially admitting to this demon that he was utterly incapable of holding his liquor. He swallowed, eyeing the dark glasses that obscured Crowley’s expressive yellow eyes. ‘Those glasses…’ he trailed off when a single eyebrow shot up over the small dark circle of one of the lenses.

‘You don’t like them?’ Crowley’s voice was laced with a hurt that honestly shocked Aziraphale. He had been under the impression that demons, particularly one so cool and unaffected (at least he _seemed_ so) as Crowley, were a self-confident lot who really didn’t bother with what anyone, let alone angels, thought.

‘Oh, no, I do like them a good deal, they suit you wonderfully,’ Aziraphale said quickly. Sincerity always laced his tone, but it seemed doubly apparent under the influence of alcohol. He watched the demon’s eyebrow arch even further upwards but was quickly distracted by the small smile that followed shortly after.

Crowley took another gulp of the wine, seeming to take a minute to relish the compliment. He looked back over at the angel beside him from behind his dark lenses. ‘What about them, then?’

‘I’ve just been wondering why you’ve decided on wearing them, I suppose,’ Aziraphale shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen you without any in centuries. They must get uncomfortable after a while?’

‘Not really. You wear them long enough and they sort of start to feel like a part of you. You barely notice they’re there until someone points them out. Or if a speck of dust gets on them. That’s a right bugger. Nothing worse than trying to look at someone and there’s a great spot of dirt in the middle of their face no matter which way you angle your head to look.’

Aziraphale snorted, his nose stinging wildly as a little of his wine ventured up there to see what was so funny. ‘I’m sorry to have asked, I was simply curious. A right pain, I know.’

‘Nothing to be said against a little healthy curiosity, angel,’ Crowley smiled again, this time a little more softly. ‘It’s how you’ve gotten so clever so far, right?’

The angel knew such a small compliment shouldn’t make him blush as deeply red as he knew his entire face was turning, but somehow hearing that sort of _praise_ coming from a _demon_ carried so much more weight than any other accolade in the world. He let out a small cough then swallowed, trying to clear the bundle of nerves from his throat. ‘Yes, well, curiosity is not exactly… well-liked upstairs, if you understand my meaning.’

‘Trust me, angel, I remember.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to-’

‘No apology needed, angel,’ Crowley poured some more wine into Aziraphale’s glass before emptying their last bottle into his own. ‘I’ve moved on.’

Aziraphale nodded and sipped his wine. Crowley had been quick to assure him it didn’t matter, but he had seen the tightness that had settled onto the demon’s face, no matter how momentarily it was, when Aziraphale had mentioned the trouble one would get in for asking too many questions in Heaven. He let the silence settle back over them, quite pleased that it hadn’t gotten heavier after his little acrobatic feat of sticking his foot rather firmly into his mouth.

‘I have a few reasons for wearing them,’ Crowley said eventually, once he’d drained his glass. ‘Maybe one day I’ll tell you them all.’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale’s face fell in disappointment before he could wrangle all the muscles in his corporation’s far-too-human face. ‘Yes, silly of me to ask such a personal question.’

‘My eyes aren’t normal,’ Crowley shrugged. ‘I never could work out that last bit of the transformation. They stay serpentine. It probably comes with the whole Fallen thing – something to mark you for what you are, make it more difficult to go around spreading evil deeds and all that rubbish.’

‘But I don’t see how you’d have to hide your own eyes.’

Crowley let out a sigh that sounded oddly affectionate in Aziraphale’s keen angelic ears. ‘Sometimes angel, you’re the cleverest idiot I know. Of course I’ve got to hide them, they’re the first thing about me anyone sees. Even when I met you, you stared at them out of the corner of your eye our whole conversation.’

‘Of course, they’re lovely eyes and so wonderfully expressive,’ Aziraphale frowned. ‘Although I do see how hiding them might help – your expressions might give you away while you’re trying to tempt people into _evil_. Although it’s likely not difficult if your definition of evil is to pay daily visits to a brothel.’

Crowley snorted. ‘Clever idiot,’ his tone was the softest Aziraphale had ever heard.

‘ _What?’_

‘The expressions aren’t the problem, silly angel, it’s the eyes themselves,’ Crowley slid the glasses slightly down his nose to peer over them at Aziraphale. The angel smiled at them, admiring the way they glittered golden in the darkness, their pupils blown wide to catch every bit of light they could. They really were extraordinary – he knew Crowley could see _much_ better in the dark than he could ever dream to, not to mention they were simply such a lovely shade of yellow.

‘I could see they could maybe become distracting from your overall spiel.’

‘Distracting? I’d never even get to the temptation bit,’ the beautiful yellow eyes rolled in exasperation. ‘Humans don’t exactly like demons. They’re clever little animals, them. They don’t _tend_ to go waltzing into obvious danger. They’d rather take their chances on dying in childbirth or battle, I’m sure. They see a pair of eyes like these coming towards them, they turn tail and rightly so.’

‘Sounds rather judgmental to me,’ Aziraphale finished his glass of wine and let out a single, tiny, high-pitched hiccup.

Crowley laughed at that, the smile lingering on his lips even after the chuckles died in the air. ‘Come on, angel, it’s late. We best get out of the bushes and into our respective homes. People might start to _talk_.’

Aziraphale thought it would be quite silly for people to gossip about something as mundane as two people sharing some wine in a garden after attending a play, but did as he was told and scrambled somewhat inelegantly to his feet. Crowley had always seemed slightly more in tune with the ways of the humans around them; he trusted his judgment.

Crowley rose rather more gracefully, the empty bottles they had strewn around them disappearing miraculously as he did. Aziraphale beamed at this – he liked to think he was having a positive influence and was drawing out the bit of good he knew still lived deep down beneath the demonic surface. The demon smiled. ‘Let’s go angel, I’ll walk you home. Can’t have you getting attacked for money in the streets. You really do know how to dress to attract attention, don’t you?’

‘Says the one wearing dark glasses _at night_ ,’ Aziraphale rolled his eyes but smiled. ‘Lead the way. I’m sure you know the route by now.’

Crowley meandered back out to the street, Aziraphale a mere half-step behind him at his right. The angel frowned quietly to himself as they walked. He hated the idea that Crowley needed to hide such a beautiful piece of who he was simply due to something as ridiculous as human wariness. He had taken barely a nanosecond to become used to their glittering-in-the-sun shades of deep yellow and black slitted pupils. He knew the humans could bloody well do the same.

Still, Crowley seemed contented with his choice to wear them, and Aziraphale really wasn’t in any position to be making any decisions for him. He certainly had no right to dictate his fashion choices; if their different tastes were any more obvious one of them would need to be dressed as a clown. The glasses really _did_ suit him, anyways, he had been quite truthful in saying so. He was an angel, he wouldn’t lie; especially when the truth could draw out such a beautiful smile.

 

* * *

 

 

It was many centuries before Aziraphale asked about the glasses again. For the most part, his curiosity had been – well, not sated but held at bay with the reason Crowley had pointed out to him. It made a great deal of sense to hide away the bits of themselves that weren’t quite human enough. They were both doing a rather bang-up job (in his humble opinion) of assimilating properly, and he knew the glasses certainly helped Crowley, who was at a bit of a disadvantage in that department.

However, over the years Aziraphale had noticed that Crowley tended to even wear the glasses, which had evolved in steady pace with the rest of his fashion, even when there were no humans around. It might be that Crowley was simply used to them by now, or that he was merely being proactive to never find himself caught without his glasses on and having to explain his remarkable eyes to any random human passerby. But Aziraphale had the rather nagging thought that it was not that. When he had first asked, Crowley had mentioned that he had more than the one reason he had given, and Aziraphale certainly hoped they had known each other long enough by now for him to have earned at least another reason for himself. It wasn’t that he was curious – that was a decidedly unangelic thing to be – he just simply… wanted to know. Badly.

They were sitting together in a rather empty diner well after most people had eaten their dinner but still before the drunken revellers came in to try and sate their alcohol-fueled hunger. Crowley seemed to eschew food much of the time, (Aziraphale honestly rather thought it was out of vanity, having seen the way his love of sweets and confections was affecting his own physique) but had opted to grab a slice of pie to keep Aziraphale’s company on the table while they drank their coffee, in Crowley’s case, and decadent cocoa in Azriaphale’s.

‘You’re staring, angel,’ Crowley said, looking across at him through the dark lenses of his new, larger sunglasses. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Oh, it’s silly really,’ Aziraphale shook his head. ‘I had just only noticed that you happen to wear the sunglasses even when there aren’t any other people around. You must know by now you needn’t hide your lovely eyes from _me_.’

Crowley’s mouth opened a little in apparent surprise before he was able to wrangle it back under his control a few seconds later. He smiled. ‘Humans aren’t the only reason I wear the glasses, angel. I’ve got a good round trio of them. But, well, you’re clever, what’s something in a snake’s physiology that’s a bit different from yours, angel?’

‘Well, there’s a great many of those differences,’ Aziraphale frowned, thinking it over. ‘I suppose you mean in your more human-like form? That would leave your eyes – oh! It’s too bright for you, isn’t it?’

‘He can be so smart given the time to remember he’s clever.’

‘You’re a rather sarcastic one sometimes,’ Aziraphale chuckled. ‘That makes perfect sense. These lights _are_ a little bit offensive, yes. Your eyes are a good deal better in darkness than mine, I can only assume that translates to difficulties in light that I wouldn’t have.’

Crowley chuckled around a piece of pie – apple – before pushing the plate of half-finished pie to the middle of the table. ‘Help me with this. I get bored after a few bites.’

‘I’ll have to be careful with you or I’ll have even more of a gut to contend with before I even realise,’ Aziraphale nevertheless picked his fork back up, having long-finished his own slice, and dug in. ‘If only I had some of your restraint. They _did_ warn me to take better care of the corporation they issued.’

‘You’re far from mistreating it, angel,’ one of Crowley’s well-coiffed eyebrows rose up from behind the dark glasses. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you’re just indulging it in a few small pleasures. Nothing wrong about that. Else you wouldn’t be doing it, right?’

Aziraphale chewed slowly, giving himself time to process that. Finally, he swallowed hard then smiled. ‘You know Crowley, you really are rather kinder than I would think a demon should be.’

‘Careful, angel, you wouldn’t want to see what happens when you offend a demon,’ Crowley smirked. He watched the angel finish off the last bite of pie and clapped his hands quietly to the top of the table. ‘Ready to head out? People might _talk_ , seeing us out so late, staring into each other’s eyes over coffee and pie.’

Aziraphale, who had been in the process of draining his cocoa, snorted some of the thick chocolate out through his nose, ducking quickly into his napkin. When he finally recovered he looked up at the demon across from him fondly. ‘You say the oddest things sometimes, Crowley. People drinking coffee, what a _ridiculous_ topic of gossip.’

He couldn’t be sure, but Aziraphale thought he heard Crowley sigh quietly. Still, he stood up fluidly and smiled. ‘Ride home, angel? Can’t have you wandering the streets, getting lost at this hour.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of finding my way around by now,’ Aziraphale huffed.

‘But you’re still getting in the car,’ Crowley guessed, leading the way over to the pristinely maintained Bentley, and opened the passenger side door. He grinned when Aziraphale rolled his eyes and folded himself in. ‘Away we go,’ he closed the door tightly.

Aziraphale settled in, ready for the rather terrifying experience of riding in the passenger seat of Crowley’s car. Still, he wouldn’t want to travel any other way. No matter how quickly or erratic the demon drove, he never felt safer than when Crowley was near. He supposed this was simply the end result of having been conveniently pulled away from rather perilous situations by the admittedly much-more capable demon. No matter where the feeling came from – Aziraphale didn’t much care – he never wanted to be without it.

 

* * *

 

Lunch at the Ritz stretched into the late afternoon, Crowley even overcoming some of his food-specific boredoms and joining Aziraphale in a few desserts. The result was that he was overly hyper from sugar and getting increasingly drunker on Aziraphale’s wine in the back room of his bookshop where they had retired after lunch. He paced haphazardly around the armchair Aziraphale was sitting in, occasionally knocking into the angel.

‘Crowley dear, please sit down, you’re driving me insane,’ Aziraphale let out a long-suffering sigh. ‘I will never allow myself to push you into sugary treats ever again.’

Crowley snorted and sank down onto the coffee table, blinking hard. ‘Oh, I think this is a sugar crash? I don’t like it. Do you feel like this every time?’

‘Oh heavens no,’ Aziraphale chuckled. ‘That’s why I eat so much of it. No crashes.’

Aziraphale watched the demon gulp down his wine greedily with a fond smile. The past few days had really offered him so much perspective in life. He could hardly believe he had been so utterly stupid to think anything, heaven, hell, earth, humans, or _anything_ would ever mean more to him than Crowley. Crowley had been right; they had their own side, and it was the only side he would ever want to be on.

His attention fell onto the glasses. They were still in their perpetual place on his face with no humans or light in sight. The old curiosity rose up again. He leaned over in his chair and reached up to poke them, finger landing on the bridge of Crowley’s nose. ‘The glasses. You don’t need them in here, I hope you know.’

Crowley smiled. ‘Well, actually angel, I kind of always have.’

‘Oh, I can turn down the lights more,’ Aziraphale made to get up, but paused when Crowley reached out to stop him with a hand to his knee.

‘That’s not it angel.’

‘Well, there’s no one else here. I like to think we’ve known each other long enough that you’d believe me when I tell you how absolutely beautiful your eyes are.’

Crowley’s smile softened. ‘And there’s the reason I need them.’

Aziraphale was completely nonplussed. ‘Whatever do you mean, Crowley?’

Crowley sighed and reached up to pull the glasses off, revealing his shining yellow eyes, the pupils blown completely wide within their softened gaze. He smiled and shrugged. ‘My eyes give me away, angel.’

‘I know you’re a demon, you idiot,’ Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

‘You really are the dumbest clever person I know, angel,’ Crowley sighed. ‘I guess I’ve been unnecessarily precautious.’

Aziraphale watched Crowley’s eyes watch him. He liked how soft they were when they looked at him. They seemed to dance and shimmer as their gaze rested upon him. He paid closer attention to the dark pupils. Usually they would contract slightly as they would get used to the level of light in the room, but they appeared to be doing the complete opposite as Aziraphale’s attention zeroed in on them. He leaned closer, inspecting them closely, a small frown spreading over his face as the pupils blew so wide they all but obscured all the lovely yellow. ‘Curious.’

‘Is it?’ Crowley did not appear at all as blasé as Aziraphale knew he was attempting to. He made to put the glasses back on, but in a rare fit of impulsiveness, Aziraphale reached out to stop him.

‘You don’t need to cover them, Crowley, they truly are very lovely eyes,’ he said quietly, watching the way the brilliant yellow glinted in the low light around the widened pupils. He marvelled some more at the softness in them, an odd feeling of realisation washing over him. ‘Oh. _Oh_.’

Pink rose up onto Crowley’s cheeks as Aziraphale looked at him. He averted his gaze, but Aziraphale reached out to his chin to turn his gaze back onto him. ‘Angel?’

‘I’m really not so clever as you say I am,’ the angel laughed quietly. ‘You would think I of all creatures might be able to recognise _love_. Perhaps its because, well, I thought you were rather smarter than to direct it at _me_.’

‘Angel, you can be so colossally stupid,’ Crowley rolled his eyes. ‘Anyone would be mad to not love you. You’re _ineffable_. You’re unbelievably kind, you’re clever – well sometimes, and you have never looked at me like something rather unpleasant under your shoe. You’re not like any other angel I’ve ever met, you’re not like any human I’ve ever met. You’re one of a kind, angel. I think I was doomed to fall in love with you the day we met.’

‘I’ve always said you go too fast for me Crowley,’ Aziraphale sighed. ‘But I think I’ve been the one going so dreadfully slow.’

‘You go at your own speed, angel, I’ll never rush you,’ Crowley reached up to take the angel’s hand to guide it away from his chin, looking puzzled when Aziraphale’s hand turned in his grip to hold it there.

‘You never have, Crowley, but I had always rather stupidly assumed, well, that all the love I felt for you was dooming me to a life of pining. And I was very alright with that, so long as I could have you in my life,’ Aziraphale smiled, his gaze finally softening to match Crowley’s. ‘I’ve not been very good at being in love. Some angel I am.’

In a single fluid motion, Crowley leaned forward and pressed their lips chastely together. Aziraphale gasped, the noise catching in his throat and turning into a very contented noise indeed. Crowley pulled away with a smile, watching the blood rush up to fill Aziraphale’s already-rosy-from-wine cheeks even further with satisfaction.

‘You’re a perfect angel, not like those stuffy morons up there,’ Crowley told him in barely more than a husky whisper. ‘The way they spoke to me when they thought I was you… I’d like to have a moment or two alone with that bastard Gabriel.’

‘I tried to splash some of the jeering demons with holy water,’ Aziraphale mumbled. ‘I wasn’t proud to have done it.’

‘Well, it was something _I_ would have done,’ Crowley chuckled. ‘Don’t look like that, thinking you’re not good enough, that you’re anything less than perfect. You _are_. You’re perfect in those things you think are imperfections, angel. And that’s why I fell in love with you.’

‘The angel is still in there deep down,’ Aziraphale reached out to tap Crowley’s nose playfully. ‘You can’t deny that anymore.’

‘Oh I guess, if it makes you happy,’ Crowley leaned back in to peck a second kiss to his lips. The way Aziraphale leaned into him told him it did.

Aziraphale felt as though he could float up into the clouds without his wings. Happiness filled him from head to toe, radiating from the spot where their lips connected. His curiosity was finally sated, but he could hardly even spare a thought for that anymore. This was bliss far beyond any of his wildest daydreams. But of course, he reasoned, he never would have gotten this without taking a look past those dark sunglasses.

 

 


End file.
